Marvel Mangaverse I: Tigra's Reunion
by DeathPaladin
Summary: Something I wrote back in '04. Recently rediscovered and edited. When Tigra is abducted by a mysterious force, can her boss Dr Strange get her back? And who is this strange young man with ties to Tigra's past?


Marvel Mangaverse: Tigra's Reunion

Disclaimer: Just a oneshot I came up with back in '04 after reading the first set of Marvel Mangaverse miniseries, recently discovered. As such, Tigra may be OOC, Doc Strange _DEFINITELY _is.

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_Tigra! Come to me!_

"Just finishing up the assignment you gave me, Doc. I'll be back as soon as I can, OK?"

_Not good enough. I need you NOW. I...sense something that worries me._

Tigra felt herself begin to go into Dr. Strange's "teleportation spell" mode.

I hate this part, she thought, bracing herself.

The spell cut off abruptly.

Tigra opened one eye.

"Doc?"

_Something's...wrong,_ Dr. Strange "said" thru telepathy. _Something, or someone, is blocking my magic, at least as far as you're concerned. Get back to the Sanctum Sanctorum! NOW! You might be in danger._

"I hear ya, Doc. On my...Ow!"

_Tigra? What...?_

"Something just...stung me...an insect of some sort. Ooooh, I feel...dizzy... Doc...Help..."

_Tigra? TIGRA!_

The weretiger heard Strange yelling in her mind, but was unable to answer as her vision began to blur and her legs began to grow unsteady and unresponsive, and she collapsed to the ground. With blackness beginning to creep over her vision, she saw a dark, robed and hooded figure approach her. She tried to move, but let out a low moan and passed out.

Stephen Strange, M.D. and Sorcerer Supreme, grabbed his mystical Cloak of Levitation and threw it around his shoulders. The golden brooch that held it closed fastened by itself, the high collar on the cape obscuring the lower half of his face (under his nose) (He bears an uncanny resemblance to Shino Aburame from Naruto-_NOT_ the Shippuden look, dark sunglasses and all). The brooch, which had a line running across the diameter horizontally, began to glow, and the line split open to reveal a golden eye-shaped talisman-amulet-thing: the All-Seeing Eye of Agamoto.

Strange turned away and looked at him in a full-length mirror. His black-brown hair, with silvery-white forelocks, gleamed slightly as a glint from the harsh lights in his laboratory ran across his mirrored sunglasses. His outfit shifted into an ebony-black waistcoat, riding pants, and boots, with orange-yellow gloves that had black flecks on them. A belt resembling Batman's utility belt, forged of gold metal and black leathery material, was buckled around his waist, and the buckle was the Eye of Agamoto as well. Gold-painted brass buttons sealed his coat closed. Golden disks on the place where the material of his coat joined upper biceps and shoulder (the disks are called pauldrons or shoulder guards) were Eyes of Agamoto as well. His silver-white eyebrows knit in concern.

I have to find Tigra, he told himself. I sense an ancient evil has awakened.

"Ungh. My head..."

Tigra came to with a groan and a splitting headache. She realized that she was sitting against a stone pillar. She tried to stand up, but the pain lancing thru her limbs quickly put a stop to that. She tugged her wrists and found they had been pulled behind her back and shackled to either side of the pole. This thrust her shoulders forwards, placing great strain on them and causing her bosom to strain against the red sports bra she wore as a top. Her ankles were locked in shackles parallel to the concrete floor, and she felt a leather mask over her eyes serving as a blindfold, keeping her in darkness.

Heavy footsteps approached the struggling weretigress.

"So, sleeping beauty awakes," a strange, yet somehow familiar, voice laughed. The voice tickled something in the back of Tigra's mind, a nearly-forgotten memory that refused to surface...

"Who...are you? Where am I?" Tigra demanded, still groggy.

"Ah, little one. Have you so soon forgotten? Very well. I am the son of, and the new, Count Dracula."

Tigra gasped slightly as the memory resurfaced.

"I remember now. The ancestor of...an old friend...slew your father."

Dracula chuckled.

"Yessss, miss Nelson," he hissed. "I brought you here for revenge! But my quarrel isn't with you. You are merely bait for your friend."

Tigra scoffed.

"Then you'll be waiting a long time, vampire. This friend died a long time ago. Oh, and by the way, I don't go by "Greer Nelson" anymore. The name's Tigra."

"Don't try to lie to me, little tigress."

Ignoring Tigra's final statement, Dracula buckled a leather muzzle around her lower face.

"He will come."

Tigra struggled harder and uttered angry, muffled curses and threats as Dracula laughed evilly and strode away.

Strange touched down in the alley where he had last sensed Tigra's life-force. He knelt and extended a hand over some orange-and-black fur that had been snagged on a rusty piece of metal. His vision altered to allow him to see the etheric trail of whomever or whatever had abducted the attractive, buxom weretiger.

Nothing, he thought, sitting back on his heels in puzzlement. How is that possible? I know I felt a surge of dark power right at the moment Tigra vanished.

"You won't find anything that way, my friend," a male voice said from the shadows.

A young man in his late teens to early 20s with sandy brown-blonde hair and yellow-green eyes stepped out of the shadows of the alley further down. He was well-built, and wore a T-shirt, jacket, and green cargo pants.

Strange gave the young man an inscrutable gaze from behind his sunglasses. Although the newcomer was about his age, Strange detected an odd maturity about him, a sense of someone older than his years.

"I take it you are Dr. Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme?" the youth asked quietly.

"Yes. And you are...?"

"An old friend of Greer's."

Realization dawned on Strange.

"The person or thing who kidnapped Tigra...Greer...isn't an enemy of mine, is it?"

The young man shook his head.

"No. He is the son of an ancient evil. A creature of the night, like me."

For the first time in his young life, Strange felt the cold prickles of fear lance the back of his neck.

"Who?" the young sorcerer asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

The young man's reply realized the doctor's fears.

"Dracula."

The young man then turned away.

"Return to your Sanctum Sanctorum, Strange. Stay out of this. This is between me and the vampire king."

He leapt into the air and was quickly lost in the shadows.

Strange stared after him in the direction he had left in.

"Could that truly be _him_?" he mused to himself. "I doubt he's going to like this, but I can't let him go without backup..."

After what seemed like hours, the restrained Tigra had managed to fall into a semi-sleep. She stirred awake and winced at the dull ache in her limbs. She froze as the soft sound of someone moving stealthily came again, closer this time. She heard a SNIK as someone unsheathed a switchblade and she began to struggle anew, furiously yet futilely. A rough, callused hand touched her face and stroked it tenderly.

Oh, no, she thought in a panic, one of Dracula's goons is a pervert!

"Greer," a soft, almost imperceptible male voice said, "what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

That voice... Tigra thought wildly. It can't be...!

She was quickly freed from the shackles and the muzzle was pulled from her mouth and cast aside. Tigra yanked off the blindfold mask and stared up into the eyes of the young man who had spoken with Strange, her eyes wide in shock. Her eyes then began to glisten and she fell into his arms, sobbing silently.

"Jack," she whispered over and over.

He smiled slightly and rubbed her back soothingly.

"It's okay, Greer. It's okay. I'm here."

Tigra gasped.

"Jack! You have to leave! Now! Dracula was using me to trap someone else!"

"I know."

"Yet...you came anyway?"

"You doubted I would?"

Tigra hesitated.

"After what I said the last time I saw you? How I acted and treated you? Yes...I did."

The young man-Jack-wiped a tear from her eye with his thumb and stroked her hair tenderly.

"I could never stay angry at you, Stripes."

She smiled and snuggled closer in his arms, sighing contentedly.

"I've missed you, Jack."

"And I you. I see your taste in clothes is still as...interesting...as ever."

Tigra colored as Jack took in her red sports bra top, red-and-white "short shorts" style gym shorts, red sweatbands on both wrists, and red boots with white socks.

"Hmmmm. I've never seen a tiger blush. It's pretty fetching."

"How sweet," a mocking voice spoke up from behind them.

Jack whirled to see Dracula reclining in the doorway.

"Mr. Erik Van Helsing, I presume?"

Jack smirked.

"Oh, so that's who you're after, Drac? Nope. Van Helsing's been MIA for decades."

"What?" Dracula hissed. "Then who are you?"

Jack grinned.

"My name is Jack Russell, also known as..."

Jack's body began to bulge and his shirt ripped open as his muscles tripled in size and thick fur sprouted all over his body. His pants tattered at the bottom of the legs, and his feet became more talon-like. His fingers lengthened into talons as well, as his face transformed into something halfway between a wolf's muzzle and the Wolfman.

**"...the Werewolf by Night!"** he finished, his voice transformed into a growling, booming bass version of his normal tenor.

Dracula sighed.

"A werewolf. I should've known a weretiger would have associated with other lycanthropic shapeshifters."

The Werewolf snarled.

**"I'm not just any werewolf, buddy. I'm a direct descendant of Grigori Russoff."**

"The one who helped the original Van Helsing destroy my father?" Dracula hissed.

**"The same."**

Dracula smirked.

"Then this won't be a complete waste after all."

The Werewolf cracked his knuckles.

**"Bring it on, mosquito."**

"Hold it."

Tigra stepped up to the Werewolf's side and cracked her knuckles as well.

"You two ain't leaving me outta this."

Jack chuckled.

**"Dracula, my friend, it seems you've got an extremely ticked, ninth-dan black belt weretiger pissed at you. Not smart."**

"You forgot to mention hormonal and PMSing."

Jack winced.

Tigra gave Jack a thumbs-up.

"Once more for old time's sake, okami-kun?"

The Werewolf grinned.

**"Hai hai, tora-chan. Race you."**

Strange watched from his vantage point of a handy invisibility spell as the pair squared off against the vampire. He was impressed with their teamwork. From all indications, those two had been fighting like this for years. The way each of their attacks complemented those of the other, the way they seemed to be able to predict the next move of the other...it was like a well-choreographed dance!

Strange saw the Werewolf glance at Tigra and nod. The two attacked as one, the vampire unable to defend himself.

Dracula staggered to his knees.

"Not...bad, lycanthropes," he panted. "I may have to go to plan B!"

He dove at a cord hanging from the ceiling and yanked it nine times: three short tugs, three long pulls, and finally three short tugs.

Morse code...the S.O.S. signal...? Strange thought. Why would he...?

The question was answered as swarms of zombie-like foot soldiers crashed thru the many doors to the room. Jack and Tigra were quickly surrounded.

Strange readied himself for action, but then the Werewolf glanced RIGHT AT HIM and made a virtually imperceptible gesture with one hand: stay.

**"Hmmm, my tigress, methinks we need a plan," **he said, loud enough to hear.

"Agreed. Might I suggest..."

Tigra ran a hand thru her hair, ending up with that hand rubbing the back of her neck.

**"No, no, there's far too many for that. How about..."**

The Werewolf stroked one eyebrow and moved the finger down to stroke his chin.

"No, these are the wrong kind of creature for that one. I know! What about..."

Tigra rubbed one finger behind her ear and then moved that hand down to stroke the hollow of her throat.

**"Very nice,"** Jack replied, mimicking the maneuver, **"...it is."**

The pair leapt into the air and into the thick of the army of undead.

Dracula watched in amazement as the two were-beings tore thru the ranks of his soldiers like winnowing scythes. Hundreds of zambizis fell with each blow, crumbling back into the dust of the earth.

Within moments, the Werewolf and Tigra had Dracula cornered. Astonishingly, the pair was completely unscathed!

**"Do you surrender?"** the Werewolf growled.

"..."

**"Well?"**

"...NEVER!" Dracula screamed, shoving past the pair and leaping into the air. The Werewolf snarled and swiped at the retreating vampire, his claws releasing crescent-shaped bolts of energy that passed right through the nosferatu, who transformed into a fog of mist and began to float away.

Tigra gasped as a golden barrier encased the fog. Lightning bolt shaped forks of magic lanced around inside the globe, and Dracula was returned to his human form.

Strange dropped the invisibility spell and floated over to the pair, landing before them. The globe hovered a few feet off the floor behind him.

Jack returned to his human form and gave a rueful smile.

"I should've known you wouldn't let me come alone," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I see where Greer picked up her obstinacy."

"No, dear heart," Tigra cooed, smiling sweetly, "that was from you."

Strange regarded the pair.

"Mr. Russell, how did you know I was there?"

"I could smell you. The spell hid your form and masked your sound, but your scent can't be hidden with magic."

Strange gave a small smile.

"So. You truly are Jack Russell, the Werewolf by Night, chosen by the Three-Who-Are-One to use your curse to defend the mortal realm."

"Yes. And more than that."

"What do you mean?"

Tigra put her arm around Jack's middle.

"Before I came to work for you, Doc," she said softly, "Jack and I were engaged."

Strange shook his head and cleaned out his ear.

"Come again?"

"You heard me, magic man. Before he vanished, Jack came home with a massive wound from the Wendigo."

"Greer went ballistic and basically threw me out of the house. After that, I wandered the world..."

"...Until he was presumed dead in a plane crash," Tigra finished. "Not long after that, you drafted my...contract."

Strange stroked his chin.

"About that contract..."

Tigra sighed.

"I know, I know. I'm comin'."

"...consider it fulfilled. You're free, Tigra. I renounce my claim over you."

Tigra was trying to speak, but her mouth was working without sound.

Strange turned to Dracula.

"And you... I banish you to your rightful realm!"

"Noooo!"

"Return to whence you came!"

The vampire vanished in a flare of eldritch fire.

Strange glanced back at Tigra and Jack.

"Farewell, my friends. May our paths cross once more someday."

He flew away.

Tigra and Jack gave each other a knowing smile.

Strange unlocked the door to his Sanctum, and stepped inside. He closed the door and leaned against it wearily.

I can't believe I really let her go, he said to himself. This place just won't be the same without her sarcasm and personality.

He walked back to his lab and gazed fondly at the place, which had been recently redecorated by the perky weretiger. He turned away and strode towards the kitchen.

"Maybe a light snack will help," he muttered.

When he entered the kitchen, he froze when he saw the refrigerator door standing wide open and a trail of crumbs leading away.

"Damn strays," he grumbled. He picked up a coil of rope to use as a leash and followed the trail. A few feet down, he saw a cat's pawprints clearly outlined in flour, leading into an empty room.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," Strange urged.

"Hmmmm?"

Strange did a double-take as Tigra's head popped into view from behind a sofa. An apple was clutched in her mouth (I know, but a fish would have been too cliché).

She swallowed the bite and grinned.

"Hey, Doc. Took ya long enough."

"But how... why... Tigra! What are you doing here?"

"You didn't think you'd be rid of us that easily, did you?" Jack asked from behind the door.

"But..."

Jack grinned.

"Hey, it was you or the Sons of Satan. Ghost Rider I like, but Hellstorm…he's too creepy."

"But... Don't you have your own place?"

"Nope. I was a drifter, remember?"

Strange was speechless.

Tigra sauntered over and hugged him, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"Besides, if I were to leave, who'd keep you outta trouble, Doc?"

"I... I..."

"Oh, c'mon! You know you missed me."

Strange burst out laughing.

"Very well. Welcome back, little tigress."

END

AN: I adapted and heavily edited the Marvel version of Dracula, as well as their "Werewolf By Night" series. Dr. Strange is one of my all-time favorite characters, and his Mangaverse self is the best I've seen. In the original "WBN" series Jack Russell, the WBN, _was _ heavily involved with Greer Nelson, who later became Tigra, both as himself and as his werewolf persona (before the Three-Who-Are-One…the Holy Trinity, anyone?...integrated his human mind into his transformations, so Tigra was dating him when he was still the 'bloodthirsty, mindless rending-and-tearing, howl-at-the-moon-and-stalk-the-moors' type). If you haven't read Marvel Mangaverse, I strongly suggest you do, or at least Wiki it. It sucks that almost all of their alternate takes on Marvel characters were killed in the 2nd volume, with Strange and Tigra dying almost immediately. Hence, any Mangaverse fics from me are AU.

While the term "zombie" is familiar with virtually everyone, the term "zambizi" is known only to a select few. Here's the definition: A Zambizi is the closest thing voodoo (or houdoo) has to the "Resident Evil"-style zombies. Zombies are merely corpses brought back to life to act as laborers, menial servants, and slaves; Zambizis "are the corpses of men or women who died violent, bloody, and unresolved deaths, reanimated by a dark hougan, or voodoo priest, in order to wreak havoc on the populace of a certain area or for revenge"; in reality, zambizis are people who imbibe a voodoo potion that allows them to live an unnatural life span that is likely indefinite, as long as they continue to kill others-zambizis "feed" on the death of others. H. P. Lovecraft wrote a story in his "Cthulhu" mythos that depicted the zambizi of an old, female slave for one of the prominent families in the Civil War continuing to slaughter the people who tried to find shelter in the abandoned house. Unlike the modern media-version of zombies, zambizis are sentient, able to think, and have no moral compunctions whatsoever. As well, the means typically associated with stopping zombies or vampires-garlic, wooden stakes, normally made of the ash tree, silver, holy water, salt, etc.-are completely ineffective against zambizis, although a cane with a metal head or a nice 12-gauge has been known to kill these unnatural undead.


End file.
